What my instincts told me to do and what I actually did were two different things. Not surprising. About two weeks ago I blogged about something I came across online over the weekend, which happened to give me a case of the curious blues. I was in a mode where my emotions were playing flip-flop worse than a pair of politicians on their best day. I knew it wasn’t entirely beneficial for me to bring to light the reason behind my blues, but for those who I confided in and who provided me with sound advice, I thank you from my heart. Hearing your points of view on those matters proved beyond comforting. Even undeservedly so in some respects. For those of you who don’t know, “you wanna hear about it? Here it go.”

I am a former and very much so recovering cheater. I’ve blogged about it. I’ve beat myself up over it emotionally for a very long time, along with everyone else who caught wind of my actions, including friends, family, ex and current girlfriends. I’ve lost weight, countless nights of sleep, cried ‘till I had no tears left in me, curled up in more balls than one while alone with my thoughts about my prior actions and their, for a time, devastating effects on those I care for.

To get into the story, one day I was reading the blog of a fantastic poet and writer about 2 Saturday’s ago when I saw that she’d received a comment from someone I hadn’t seen comment previously. I saw this same commenter on other blogs that I’m linked up with, in my small, but quality blogging network. The first thing that stood out to me was the fact that this new commenter was seemingly a more masculine identified lesbian, going by their name, and that I hadn’t seen them comment on those blogs prior to June 2009. I love when new comments have a link to their blog that you can click on and see what their blog is all about, and show them some love while you’re there if the topic peeks interest. One of the great things about blogging is the network of relationships that you can build and then continue to build upon. The great minds you meet, even those that sometimes think alike or similar to you or I or sometimes not, regardless, I love to show love, you know what I’m saying?

Well, yeah, so I clicked on the link and proceeded to read some of the blog entries. Everyone who knows me will tell you that I love poetry with a fucking passion. Period. Good poetry even more so, great poetry exponentially, but even not so great poetry can sometimes inspire me so I don’t discount anyone’s creativity because I’m not exactly the bees knees myself. There was a poem on the blog with a title that immediately caught my attention and made me take notice. I read it. No, let me reiterate, I felt it. It seemed familiar and somewhat intrusive, but it was very well written, well delivered, and well, it was pretty damn good. And it seemed to be speaking at me, poking, prodding a little, even though I didn’t agree with how the tone of the poem’s intended target was set up, that didn’t matter because the words very closely resembled words I’d heard before, words said to be by someone I hurt deeply. In a lot of ways it mirrored things my ex said about me in the past, regarding my life, my actions, my writing style, my loss of God’s gift to me: Her (her words, not mine), all that good and bad shit. It was a well constructed poetic diss to cheaters, and from my distinctive understanding, the poem spoke to a singular cheater in particular. I commented on it, favorably, adding my little something about the morale of the piece and its connotations, but nevertheless respecting the mental effort it took to construct.

I found the poem fascinating because of the point of view it was taken from, and the fact that, well, why would a new girlfriend write a poem about their current girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend whom they barely knew and met only once? Regardless of what went on in the relationship how often is a person met with discontent directed at them from the ex’s current main squeeze, I wondered. I then read through some other entries on the website and then really begin to feel like I had an inkling of who this person and the person they were talking about in the poem were, and by some of the things being discussed in other blog posts. It should have been the first thing I did, but it happened to be the last. I checked the blogroll, the links on the side bar to see if there were any and there were a few. Surprisingly, they were all pointing to some of the very same links that can be found on my blogroll. Not at all out of the ordinary, right?

I began to notice on my twitter page that this person, whom I recognized by the name of their blog, was communicating with some of the same people I talk to on twitter. They were mostly people I’ve only met since I started blogging earlier this year, not even the people in my everyday offline life so I didn’t think much of it, yet, but the wheels in my head were grinding at that point. Without a picture on the twitter link, I could only guess. I had a nagging suspicion that perhaps it could be someone that knew me or knows me in real life, but this person is obviously a more masculine-identified lesbian so who could she be? None of my buddies were as computer inclined as I, nor did they want to be, nor would they write such a poem about me, hell, they’d just tell me, so who was this mystery person.

One particular night I noticed that they were engaged in heavy conversation with one of my blog buddies on twitter and since their page was unprotected I went to it and saw that they’d indicated that their girlfriend was on her way home from work. My first thought was maybe, possibly, fat chance, but what the hell, I may as well wing it and call my ex to see if she knew anything about it. I knew she’d probably be on her way home from work. So I called and she answered. I ask if her girlfriend has a blog that was started early in June. She doesn’t give me any direct answers to any of my questions and she doesn’t have to give them to me either, but I press on anyway, asking if she has ever heard of the title of the poem. She says not really. I tell her I can read it to her, but she declines. She does say that her girlfriend has a couple of personal blogs she’s been writing and working on. I could believe it, I mean, those who blog know how easy it is to feel the need or satisfy the desire and urge to write and work on as many projects as we can muster. So, fine, she didn’t know for sure but knowing her I already had my answer. I knew for sure. I decided that the blog was either hers or her current girlfriend’s. I even ribbed her a little about not knowing what her ex-girlfriend was writing about, and I asked why she wasn’t on her girlfriend’s twitter page, but these were all things I said to really confirm my suspicions. We ended the call after 45 minutes of talking about this and that and me clearing the air and trying to convince her that I wasn’t upset about the blog, which she kept asking me if I was. Sheesh, I was more intrigued by it than anything. I also asked her if she found it odd that of all the millions of blogs out in the blogosphere, I think something like 347,000 blogs were created on WordPress alone last month, that she just happened upon my network of bloggers and it was purely coincidental that she’s blogging with, commenting on, and twittering with the same people I do on an almost daily basis since I began writing again. She found nothing odd or surprising about it. I said cool. I wanted to end the call earlier, but I allowed it to continue before it came to a close. Actually, she’d finally made it home and that prompted her to end the call.

The very next day I noticed that both she and girlfriend’s twitter pages were protected. That made me giggle like a school girl. Twitter identity confirmed. I was able to see that she was finally on her girlfriend’s twitter page as well. I checked the blog later in the week and saw that there was a follow-up post explaining the poem that I’d read and commented on previously, indicating that it wasn’t about anyone in particular even though the title alone had implications directly relating to my website’s name. Blog identity: confirmed. Not to mention, it described in poetic detail what she really thought of me and our affair/relationship over the course of the 2+ years it raged on. And there was this. Never have I ever come across a poem that I immediately, perhaps even conceitedly, thought was about me or written about my life or love escapades, regardless of any minor or major embellishments included for impact. Not even with poems written for me by women I’ve cared for in my lifetime has that happened, until that day. All is fair, right? I’m beginning to realize how true that is with the passing of the ages and it was key for me. In some sense I feel that I deserve the invasion, as I felt it was initially, and that it was a long time coming, but it’s still surprising in many respects. Another part of me simply doesn’t understand why or how or if I should even care about my ex and her new girlfriend’s direct/indirect involvement in what I used to considered, my online haven.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em? Or maybe it could be that I bite back far less once I’ve kicked the habit. See, sometimes I just can’t help myself. But the point of this long ass drawn out drivel is that if my ex and her girl are going to be in and around my cyber social world, which they are, it won’t deter me from cultivating my own piece of mind – mine nor will me being me deter them from writing wonderful poetry together. Happy Anniversary you two; much deserved happiness, peace, and love be onto you.

Honestly, If I had the past to do all over again, I would, but I know that I would still somehow become genuine acquaintances with some of the people I’ve encountered since I started seriously blogging and writing again. I refuse to believe that none of these things would be possible had I not made it through the storm and picked up my pen and pad.

With that said, blogging is a ton of fun, and I’m sure they are both enjoying it as much as I am. Matter of fact, one of my buddies just started her new wordpress blog today. I’m telling you, this stuff can be addicting! My curious blues are no longer curious or blue, and sometimes the truth really is stranger than fiction. Heck, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Peace & Love.